


These Hallowed Halls

by hausofgaunt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hausofgaunt/pseuds/hausofgaunt
Summary: Set during the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione seek to destroy what's left of Voldemort amidst devastation and across a barrier they do not quite understand. Light Harry/Hermione.





	1. Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: No one can see Harry underneath the Invisibility Cloak, and Homenum revelio does not work either, as is befitting of a Deathly Hallows item. Also, in my story, Dumbledore was a shade more helpful before his death than in the books. This version of the trio has been previously informed that Nagini is a horcrux. They are also aware that Harry has a piece of Voldemort's soul within him, and that he must let the piece die before Voldemort can be finitely destroyed. Finally, Snape got what he dearly wished and died without anyone knowing of his deep, dark ability to love.
> 
> Reviews are greatly appreciated.

_…the emaciated figure stirred beneath its thin blanket and rolled over towards him, eyes opening in a skull of a face…the frail man sat up, great sunken eyes fixed upon him, upon Voldemort, and then he smiled. Most of his teeth were gone…_

_"So, you have come. I thought you would…one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."_

_"You lie!"_

_"Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek…there is so much you do not understand…"_

" _Kill me, then!" demanded the old man." You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours—"_

Silence.

A heartbeat.

Distant explosions.

Harry was jolted out of his trance, allowing himself a fraction of a second to wonder why the memory of that particular vision had come back to him here, now, in the middle of this warzone when there were more important matters at hand.

He crouched low under a large empty canvas whose occupants had likely fled from the chaos. His eyes burned from the smoke that was beginning to emanate upwards, and he could hear the screams and see the jets of light crisscrossing from below.

Elated though he was that the diadem had been successfully destroyed, Harry had been forced to separate from Ron and Hermione after three cloaked Death Eaters had run at them as soon as they exited the Room of Requirement, already beginning to screech a myriad of curses. Hermione, quick-thinking as usual, had blasted part of the ceiling down. The raining brick and mortar shielded the trio from most of the curses while simultaneously burying the Death Eaters whose cries were soon completely silenced. Unfortunately, Harry had been forced to dive to the side and run to avoid the same fate.

'I need to get back around the other side,' thought Harry fervently. Just then, another loud bang from below and a triumphant shriek. There was a beat of silence again, and then the hall erupted into screams of pure abject terror that seemed to reverberate within his very soul. His scar split in two and Voldemort ascended.

Hermione's body wracked with sobs as she pounded desperately on Ron's chest.

"Please get up, R-Ron, no, Merlin,  _no_ …"

Hermione raked her hands wildly through her hair as if hoping she could pull the solution out of the bushy mane. Ron lay face up, unresponsive, on the floor. A hole was burnt cleanly through his chest. Through her tears, Hermione could see the floor beneath his body through the hole. Strangely, he did not bleed.

Before succumbing to Hermione's curse, the three Death Eaters had fired off their own curses at the trio. Two of the three curses had shot through the ceiling as their creators' aim had suffered under falling material, but the third's mark was true.

Hermione looked around wildly for Harry, fearing now that he had been buried under the wreckage as well. Her lungs threatened to burst with unrelenting gasps of air, her throat beginning to constrict as she realized she may well have just lost her two best friends in no small part of her own doing.

It was tribute to how distressed Hermione was that she did not notice her wand gently floating upwards and away. By the time she had her wits together and went to retrieve it from the floor, she realized it was gone. In her line of sight she noticed a pair of grey-tinged feet underneath a dark cloak fluttering in a non-existent breeze.

Her insides ran cold as she looked up and then all was black.

* * *

Nagini regarded the body on the floor very curiously as she had been wont to do for the past few hours. Her Master had left her alone with the human, and yet expressly forbade her from maiming or consuming it in any way. He had allowed her to consume the other one, which confused Nagini as to what the difference was between the two, but she was loathe to disobey.

The human stirred. Nagini slithered further back into the shadows and continued to observe in silence. She watched it turn over to face the ceiling, quietly, for a few moments, then suddenly leap to its feet. Nagini could not hold back a hiss of surprise, to which the human turned in her direction and screamed.

_It awakes…_

In an instant, her Master reappeared in the room and Nagini felt a wave of exhilaration. Her Master was clearly pleased. Perhaps the killing time was near.

The human's eyes darted to and fro around the room. As Master began to approach it, it shakily mirrored his steps backwards. Nagini could smell the terror and followed forwards.

He began to speak to her in the common tongue. The human responded in nerves at first, and then appeared to become more defiant as he continued to speak. Nagini reared up and hissed threateningly…what a lack of respect this lowly creature had to dare speak back toward her Master, her life-giver!

_Shhh, Nagini…calm…_

Nagini closed her mouth and fell back to the floor at once. She watched the creature's eyes follow her movements nervously, some of the previous confidence dissolving away. It would greatly satisfy Nagini when it was time to feed.

Her Master spoke for a few more minutes and then, suddenly, it dropped to the floor, shrieking in agony with fingers desperately clawing at the ground. Nagini and her Master observed the scene quietly before he lifted the spell. It remained motionless apart from drawing ragged gasps. Finally, he turned to face her.

_We go now, Nagini. She will keep._

And so they went.

* * *

Harry crouched low at the end of a hallway on the fourth flow, hardly daring to breathe. Despite his use of the Invisibility Cloak, he could not help but think that Voldemort would be able to track him down at some point. As if responding to this thought process, his scar had begun to throb painfully a few hours ago. He had felt an imprint of Voldemort's pleasure and envisioned flashes of him directing his snake in front of a huddled mass.

The visions had been too muddy and discrete for Harry to make sense of them through his pounding headache, so he had once again tried fruitlessly to close his mind. 'This is completely pointless,' he had thought to himself with increasing frustration as the ghosts of quiet sobs sounded in his head.

Now, hours later, the same heart-wrenching sobs began again and Harry felt the urge to slam his head into the bust of a short, smirking wizard in a powdered wig beside him.

'It isn't enough that I'm in the middle of a warzone, I have to bloody hear him terrorizing people too, now,' Harry thought angrily. The sobs intensified as Harry attempted to clear his mind. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the voice to just  _go away_ , he was doing the best that he could under the circumstances…until he thought he heard a clear word amongst the noise.

_Harry…_

Harry instantly halted his efforts and listened. His heart began to beat faster. The voice sounded like…

_Someone…_

There was no doubt. It was Hermione.

Relief flooded Harry as warmth after a Dementor attack. Completely abandoning his plan to stay silent, Harry whispered, "Hermione? Is that you?"

The sobs stopped.  _H-Harry?_

"Hermione! Yes! It's me! Where are you?" he asked. Harry began to look fervently up and down the hallway. She must be nearby, although the hallway seemed to appear empty.

Hermione began to hiccough again.  _I'm…I'm in some sort of…some sort of room, I d-don't really know…_

Harry jumped to his feet and began scanning the hall for doors. The only other doorway was at the end of the hall, and Harry noticed with dismay that it was completely caved in.

"You must be near where I am now, I can hear you," said Harry as he inspected the damage around the door. The pileup around the door was massive, and he did not expect to be able to move it quickly without his own wand. He had to think fast.

_Harry, I d-don't think I'm anywhere n-near you. Listen, V-Voldemort brought me here…_

Harry stopped moving. "What?"

_Just…just make sure you're in a-a safe spot and I'll explain…_  "I am, I'm fine, I've got the Cloak."

There was a small sniffle. Harry's heart clenched at the sound.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

_I'm alright now. Oh, Harry…I'm so sorry…_

"Sorry about what?"

Hermione began to cry again in earnest before whispering,  _Ron's…he's gone. And it's my fault._

Tears poured in droves down Hermione's face during the heavy silence following her confession. She could almost feel Harry's numbness. If only she could turn back time, save him like they saved Buckbeak and Sirius, but even that hadn't worked out, either.

Finally, Harry spoke. Hermione was alarmed at how completely detached his voice sounded. A fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face.

_Okay…okay, we're going to have to, to deal with that…with that later. We need to focus on finding each other now or we'll both be dead, too. Where do you think you are right now? Can you see any windows?_

"No…I'm not sure what room this is. I don't even know if I'm still at Hogwarts," replied Hermione, mopping her eyes on her sleeve. "It's just a completely blank room. There's nothing else in here part from me, even the walls are just white with not a single door or scratch on them…"

_How can I hear you then?_

"I'm not sure. I think it might have something to do with the cursed barrier Voldemort placed on the room and the connection the two of you have. He must be monitoring the room to some degree…so maybe you're getting glimpses into his mind—"

_I told you that seeing into his head was going to help us out! Didn't I tell you—_

"Oh enough, Harry!" Hermione retorted furiously. "That's just my best guess, I'm not even sure if that's the reason! And, for your information, that might mean he can hear what we're discussing right now!"

_Well, there's only one way to find out then, isn't there? If you can hear this, Voldemort, come find me right now. I'm on the fourth floor hallway near a cave-in, there's a statue—_

"Harry, no!" cried Hermione, flailing her arms at nothing in particular. She began to reprimand Harry viciously but was relieved to hear no sounds of Harry in pain, which was the usual signal of Voldemort's approach. Hermione tentatively accepted that Harry was safe, at least for now.

_Nevermind how this is working, just tell me as much as you can of what you remember. We'll figure this out, 'Mione._

Hermione took a deep breath and began to explain.

"Ron was…he was hit by a curse from one of the Death Eaters. I expect Voldemort knew we were after the diadem and sent the Death Eaters after us because he was right outside the Room of Requirement. He took my wand and…and he must have Stupefied me, because I remember waking up in this room. And seeing the snake…"

_Nagini's in the room?_ asked Harry sharply.

"She was, not anymore. I think she called him because she hissed and he Apparated a few seconds after. He told me that I was lucky to be alive, very lucky, and that he was going to…to find you and put an end to things." She carefully left out his gratuitous use of the Cruciatus curse, knowing it would just infuriate Harry and distract him from her crucial point. "He told me that he finally had…Harry, I think he's got the Elder Wand!"

Harry didn't respond for some time.  _He was going to get it at some point with Dumbledore gone, anyway._

"You're right, I suppose. But Voldemort, with the Elder Wand…" Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from tearing up again. Everything was going so, so terribly wrong.

_Right, I've been thinking about that. I don't think it's as bad as we're thinking, Hermione._

Hermione, who knew Harry to be as brave and headstrong as any Gryffindor, could hardly believe what he was saying. It seemed the perfect nightmare to her: the most powerful Dark wizard with the most powerful Dark wand. Harry seemed to sense her disbelief and began to explain himself.

_Dumbledore had the Elder Wand in the Astronomy Tower, but Draco disarmed him before Snape or any of the Death Eaters got there. So Snape thought he was the one that overpowered Dumbledore…which means Voldemort must have gone after Snape to get the wand. But none of them knew—_

"You took Draco's wand at the mansion," breathed Hermione, finishing Harry's thought. "Harry, you're the owner of the Elder Wand! It won't work for Voldemort!"

_That's what I'm thinking._

"Of course, we're depending upon the fact that Voldemort doesn't know these details, which is possible if Draco told him directly, or if he told his father," said Hermione as if she was explaining an argument in an essay.

_I don't think he would have. Voldemort's already not really pleased with the Malfoys, is he? So if they were to tell him they screwed up his order, he'd probably lose his mind…_

"That's true," Hermione remarked thoughtfully. It was taking a chance, but if they could formulate a plan to take Voldemort by surprise…

* * *

Having gone over the details of their plan several times, Harry told Hermione to be strong and safe and repeatedly expressed his confidence that everything was going to work out. He checked the corridor carefully to make sure no one had slipped in without his notice, then removed his Cloak and carefully wedged it behind the statue of the wigged wizard. Then, he squared his shoulders and marched with determination down the stairs.

It didn't take longer than a few minutes for Harry to reach the Great Hall, yet it still surprised him that he was able to evade notice from the Death Eaters. Sending a silent thank you to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Harry pushed open the large doors and listened to the zealous roar of battle die down to a quiet nothing.

Every individual in the Great Hall turned toward him, some still with their arms outstretched in the air as if frozen in the middle of a curse. He could see so many familiar faces and so many unfamiliar, and wreckage so profoundly present that the Hall barely looked as it had during his school days. The shock of seeing the Dark Lord's most prized obsession seemed to remove all thought from his followers, who watched in stunned silence as Harry made his way into the centre of the hall. Once there, he turned in his spot to face the Carrows, who had a similar look of disbelief on their ugly faces.

"Tell your lord I'm here to face him, one on one. Tell Voldemort I'm ready for him," Harry declared fiercely. He heard a screech of laughter from his right and turned to see that Bellatrix Lestrange had entered the hall looking positively gleeful.

"Itty bitty Potter's got some bite, now, hasn't he?" she said with a mad glint in her eye. Before he could respond, Bellatrix lovingly caressed the mark on her forearm and Harry fell to his knees in wretched torture.

He didn't need to hear the collective gasps in the Hall to know that Voldemort had arrived at once. He was dimly aware of Voldemort praising Bellatrix for her quick actions, to which she bowed low and reaffirmed her allegiance.

"Ah, Harry," Voldemort sighed, fixing Harry with his snakelike glare. "I have been waiting for you to finally show yourself."

Every person in the hall had backed away and was now watching with breathless anticipation. Harry managed to stagger to his feet and glare just as intensely back. His fists clenched as he fought to control the pure, deep loathing that had erupted throughout his body, noting with displeasure that Nagini was not, as they had hoped, with Voldemort. He did not react.

"I have been wondering why the Chosen One, if that name is to be believed, has so willingly allowed every one of his colleagues to fight in his place for so long. Not very becoming of a Gryffindor to me, it seems," Voldemort declared nonchalantly. He glided leisurely toward Harry, stepping over the body of a third-year Ravenclaw.

Harry, for his part, did not respond outwardly. He could faintly hear Hermione begging him to explain what was happening, knowing that she must sense from their connection that he and Voldemort stood so near, but he could focus on nothing but the contemptuous scarlet eyes in front of him.

'Remember the plan,' he thought to himself. 'We can restrain him until we find the snake. Just get the wand.'

"You're going to die here, tonight, Tom," Harry replied as calmly as he could. Voldemort had still not drawn his wand, and Harry felt a trace of fear alongside a small voice pointing out that Voldemort must have read Draco's mind, he did not bring the wand and all was lost…

Deciding to push his luck upon seeing Voldemort smirk condescendingly, Harry continued angrily. "You think you've won, don't you? Well, I've got news for you: the wand doesn't respond to you. You messed up, you won't be able to overcome the connection between us with that wand. You've lost."

"And I believe your wand doesn't respond to you, either, Harry, am I correct? Or have you managed to piece it back together yet?"

Hearing that Voldemort knew his wand was broken felt like a tremendous blow for Harry. He could feel any sort of advantage in the element of surprise drifting away. As if sensing this, Voldemort laughed a piercing cold laugh. The sound coupled with Hermione's indistinct voice in the back of his head drove Harry into a rage. He pointed Draco's wand at Voldemort and shouted, " _Accio Elder Wand!_ "

Nothing happened.

Harry felt a wave of disbelief. He could not see any other wand in Voldemort's grasp, but he must have brought the wand if he expected to kill Harry at this moment. How could there be no response…

"You look confused, Harry. Shall I spare you the mental anguish of deducing what has happened here, tonight?"

Harry did not know how to respond. He could feel the fear mounting, now fully aware for the first time that he was facing Voldemort, alone, with someone else's wand, his and Hermione's plan having failed spectacularly on all counts. It almost seemed unreal and he briefly wondered if this was all a bad dream, if he was back at Number Four Privet Drive in Dudley's old room and any second now Aunt Petunia would bark at him to wake up and get breakfast ready…

Voldemort glided forward, grabbed Harry's arm and, in front of a thoroughly frightened circle of onlookers, twisted and vanished into nothing.

Voldemort threw Harry to the floor upon arrival at their destination, but the pain was nothing to the acute stabs in his forehead. He felt himself lifted to his feet and immediately recognized the room as Dumbledore's office. Each one of the paintings was empty.

"You should consider this an honour, Harry. It is not every day that I allow lesser beings such as yourself to gaze into my mind."

Harry watched wordlessly as Voldemort drew open the cupboard that housed Dumbledore's Pensieve and extracted a wispy strand of memory with the tip of one long, spidery finger. Voldemort turned with a sudden quickness, seized the back of Harry's neck and thrust Harry's head into the depths of the Pensieve.

Harry felt the familiar swooping sensation before his feet hit hard ground. He wrenched his neck from Voldemort's vicelike grip, eyes watering from the insurmountable pain, and looked forward into the memory.

_…the emaciated figure stirred beneath its thin blanket and rolled over towards him, eyes opening in a skull of a face…the frail man sat up, great sunken eyes fixed upon him, upon Voldemort, and then he smiled. Most of his teeth were gone…_

_"So, you have come. I thought you would…one day. But your journey was pointless. I never had it."_

_"You lie!"_

Harry watched as what had been discrete fragments of familiar visions materialized in front of him, fully coherent for the first time. Voldemort stood mutely in stark contrast to his enraged twin in the memory.

_"I never had it," Grindelwald repeated bitterly. "It was never mine. Did you not ever stop to consider_ how _Dumbledore was capable of defeating me when I, the greatest Dark wizard of all time, possessed the wand to conquer all wands?"_

_Voldemort's scarlet eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at Grindelwald's words, but nevertheless he allowed the man to continue for he appeared lost in a mad reverie._

_"I have spent much of my time here remembering, analyzing that particular duel, searching for reasons as to why,_ why  _the wand had failed me, its true owner, its Master. It is not until recently that I came to understand the truth. Gregorovitch was not the rightful owner of the wand."_

_Grindelwald's voice became steadily more forceful as though explaining out loud confirmed the truth of his deductions once and for all._

_"I had studied the wand's history in great detail in preparation, and all signs indeed pointed to Gregorovitch having obtained the wand by force centuries ago in a bid to study its properties…but I had overlooked a crucial point in my musings..._

_"My accomplice, a young wizard hoping to gain glory in aiding my cause, had, according to my instruction, set off a small explosion in the back alley of Gregorovitch's shop. This allowed me the time to enter his shop unseen and search for the wand's location. Gregorovitch surmised the distraction for what it was quicker than my accomplice had anticipated, and so he disarmed the wandmaker in time for him to watch me escape out of his window with the Elder Wand in hand._

_"I did not imagine that the act of disarming Gregorovitch would amount to anything, seeing as he was disarmed of his own particular wand and not the Elder Wand itself. My instructions had been very clear: if Gregorovitch recovers before the wand is found, disarm and impede him so that we may escape unscathed. The young wizard was unable to impede Gregorovitch before a gang of brutes, likely bought for protection should an attempt be made to procure the wand, killed him._

_"I escaped his shop as you no doubt discovered, confident in the fact that the Elder Wand was mine to command henceforth. It was only during my duel with Dumbledore, where the wand frustratingly performed at the same level as my own, that I understood that something had gone wrong."_

_Grindelwald fell silent, scrutinising Voldemort's impassive face. Finally, Voldemort spoke._

_"A well-concocted story. Now, I will ask only once more: where is the wand?"_

_Grindelwald let out a short bark of laughter, spattering the cell floor with spittle. Voldemort regarded him with disgust, unbidden memories surfacing of another old man reveling in his madness on the floor of a run-down shack…_

_"You know where the wand is, much good as that will do you. I suppose this conversation is at an end. Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek…there is so much you do not understand…"_

_Voldemort regarded the cackling wizard for a moment more and then turned to leave. At once, the laughter ceased, leaving a dead silence such that Voldemort turned back around._

_"Leave the body," Grindelwald said quietly, seeming for the first time as sane as any man. He looked Voldemort dead in the eye. "Take the wand, trace its history as you wish, but do not desecrate the dead."_

_Despite his face unchanging, Voldemort spoke in a voice cold as ice._

_"You waste my time with wild stories intended to deceive me and hinder my progress, and then have the gall to present me with a request?" He crouched down until he was at eye level with Grindelwald, and then, in a tone colder still, said, "I will take the wand, and I will make sure that Dumbledore's worthless corpse is thrown into the deepest, darkest unmarked crevice I can find as is befitting his status."_

_The effect was instantaneous. Grindelwald's eyes appeared to roll back in his head and he began to sputter in a feral rage._

" _Kill me, then!" demanded the old man." You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours—"_

" _The wand will be mine. And you will live."_

_"The wand will never recognize hands as filthy as yours, Tom Riddle!…oh, yes…you think I did not know, did not hear whispers in the long years I have lain in this cell…filthy spawn of muggles that you are—"_

_Voldemort's face contorted into pure, frothing rage and the cell exploded with blinding green light and the hollowed, ringing laughter of a man finally released from his sentence, free at last, free at last…_

The greyness of the cell dissolved into black as the memory ended. Harry glanced warily in Voldemort's direction, expecting waves of anger in response to Grindelwald's revelation and parting insults, and was instead surprised and terrified to see a broad grin carved on to Voldemort's white, snakelike face.

"Don't you see, Harry?" Voldemort asked in a jubilant tone. "He was wrong. Voldemort knows…he always knows…"

Not knowing how to respond, Harry stayed silent. Voldemort's grin broadened, and Harry recalled Nagini's face moments before she struck in Bathilda Bagshot's home.

"This self-proclaimed master of the Dark Arts, this poor excuse for a wizard, claimed that I did not understand the inner workings of the Elder Wand, and I confess at that moment, yes, I was mistaken…but for all his time rotting away he did not possess the brains to realize…or at the most, refused to admit to his own inadequacy…

Voldemort fell silent and looked Harry directly in the eye, as if expecting him to somehow reach Voldemort's conclusions. Harry, whose scar had felt as though it could produce no more pain humanly tolerable, burst open again and drove all coherent thought from his mind. Bare instinct prevented him from falling to his knees in agony… _can't show weakness…_

Voldemort sneered as Harry fought to maintain a straight face.

"My, my, for all his magical prowess and daring feats, is the Chosen One truly incapable of solving this matter? Well then, allow me to provide you one last lesson before you join that old fool whom you hold so dear…

"Grindelwald believed he had claimed true ownership of the Elder Wand when he stole it from Gregorovitch all those years ago. Doubtless he assumed that his thievery combined with an ill-directed stunning spell had been sufficient to gain control of the wand."

Voldemort paused for a brief moment and Harry felt an alien surge of triumph wind its way through the pain.

"What he failed to understand, what so many others have failed to understand, is that the Elder Wand responds to  _power_. It does not recognize thievery or any other sort of banal trickery. A wizard must demonstrate a high degree of raw power, enough to truly defeat his opponent, for the wand to change allegiance.  _'The wand chooses the wizard…'"_ Voldemort recited in a mockery of Ollivander's famous words.

"Perhaps Grindelwald had an inkling of this when he aimed a Stunning spell at Gregorovitch before his absurd escape from the shop. A very slight inkling, if anything, for his lazy spell missed completely according to the memories Gregorovitch so kindly provided me. Do you see now, Potter?"

The last few words were hissed menacingly. Harry's scar prickled further and it took all his force of will not to clap his hands to his face.

"Going to finally arrive at the point, are you?" Harry demanded. Voldemort looked unfazed.

"Now we see the true extent of your mental capabilities, separated as you are from the higher minds who have guided you in thwarting me all these years. Gregorovitch was indeed the wand's true master, contrary to Grindelwald's feeble argument. The wand never changed allegiance. Do you know where Gregorovitch is now, Potter?"

A slight pause, and then, "He is dead, killed months ago in his very own shop."

Voldemort reached into his billowing black robes and slowly withdrew a long, knobbly brown wand.

Harry's mind went blank as understanding dawned on him like a bolt of lightning.

'We were wrong.'

Voldemort grabbed Harry's arm and Apparated back to the Great Hall.

* * *

Once again, Harry was thrown to his feet.

He hardly registered the feeling, numb with the realization that he and Hermione had been so, so horribly wrong. He did not hear what Voldemort began to preach to the terrified crowd, he could no longer hear Hermione's voice echoing in his head, he could not share in the trepidation the wizards and witches with whom he had grown up in this hall were feeling at this very moment. And thus he could not muster any thought except that, at the very least, Voldemort was about to destroy the horcrux within Harry so that someone else could continue the hunt. Then his vision flashed a familiar shade of green, and he closed his eyes.


	2. Breakthroughs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No one can see Harry underneath the Invisibility Cloak, and Homenum revelio does not work either, as is befitting of a Deathly Hallows item. Also, in my story, Dumbledore was a shade more helpful before his death than in the books. This version of the trio has been previously informed that Nagini is a horcrux. They are also aware that Harry has a piece of Voldemort's soul within him, and that he must let the piece die before Voldemort can be finitely destroyed. Finally, Snape got what he dearly wished and died without anyone knowing of his deep, dark ability to love.
> 
> Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Hermione paced a nervous trail around the room as she had done so for the past couple of hours. Although there had been no new change in circumstances as far as she could tell, Hermione again replayed the last series of events in her mind for what must have been the thousandth time.

Harry had ceased responding to her voice shortly after leaving for the Great Hall. Hermione had felt a violent surge of magical energy that she was quite sure meant he had met with Voldemort. Had Harry managed to successfully retrieve the wand? She couldn't help but feel that this was not the case, for surely the enchantment in the room would fall should Voldemort suffer defeat.

After what seemed like years, Hermione felt another disturbance in the barrier. Her heart dropped into her stomach at the arrival of her visitor, who flung a pair of thinly framed round glasses at her feet. The glasses cracked upon hitting the floor. Hermione moaned at the sight.

"Now, Mudblood, you will listen to me. Your Order is defeated, but I will let you live. Do not let it be said that Lord Voldemort does not possess mercy."

Hermione trembled, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. It was exhausting, the amount of times she had shed tears in this room thus far, and yet she could sense that the cycle of despair would just continue on from here. Ron dead, Harry dead…potentially through a flaw in the plan that she had been instrumental in concocting.

And then it hit Hermione in full force that she had been responsible for the deaths of her two best friends. If she hadn't caved in the ceiling, Ron may have been able to perceive and dodge the curse aimed his way. If she had been able to anticipate and mobilize a better plan, Harry might have lived, too. And now the entire wizarding world had fallen.

Voldemort watched as the Mudblood seemed to lose all strength of will in a moment's passing. Her eyes deadened and, although she did not move, he could feel a palpable loss of hope The room's magical energy spiked as the triumphant feelings of finally defeating the accursed Potter soared again. He continued.

"Despite your lack of pure blood, I cannot fail to acknowledge your magical prowess. You may be of use to me as there are several fields of magical study that I wish to investigate. As many of these fields are lightly studied, we will begin experimentation in this room ourselves."

Hermione's mind began to race. 'Experimentation…he's going to experiment on me,' she thought, panic surging through the grief.

"I don't understand why—why you would entrust that sort of knowledge to a Mudblood. Don't you have your Death Eaters for these things?" she asked pointedly.

"To whom I appoint my tasks is none of your concern," he replied coldly, "and you will not question me again or suffer the consequences." He waved his wand arm in an arc and a series of bookshelves appeared alongside a desk and chair. Hermione now noted that his wand was indeed the Elder Wand, and her chest tightened at the tangible evidence of her failure.

Voldemort stood aside and fixed her with what she supposed was meant to be an inviting look. Hermione tentatively stepped toward the bookshelves and began to examine. Unsurprisingly, the books all appeared to be dark magic. As she pretended to read the titles of various tomes, Hermione's mind whirred into his familiar reflexive thinking. This seemed an odd way to introduce Hermione into what she expected to be torture. Perhaps he would have her dissect these books in his stead, in which case she might discover a way out of the cursed barrier!

As if reading her very thoughts, Voldemort began to speak again. "You will not be able to escape with any of the information you find here, and you will be killed if you attempt to do so. Do not overestimate your importance to me, Miss Granger." Hermione continued to peruse distractedly and made no effort to let Voldemort know he had read her mind. "The first order of business here is to uncover any and all information regarding regeneration of horcruxes."

At this, Hermione ceased movement. "What?"

"I require any historical evidence of a wizard reformulating or otherwise regenerating damaged horcrux items. I do not require any further information on the topic of remorse; this serves me no purpose. Do not attempt to conceal any facts or statistical figures that you uncover, else I shall simply create a new horcrux with your murder. Is my instruction clear?"

Hermione's drew a shaky breath. "And what if the particular book I need isn't in one of these bookshelves?"

"To me, Miss Granger." Hermione steeled herself, and then turned around to face the Dark Lord. His face remained impassive, but she swore she could detect a hint of mirth in his features.

"This is the Room of Requirement, which I would have expected someone with an intellect as famed as yours to have already discovered. The room responds in accordance with my wishes."

To Hermione's horror, Nagini slithered out from beneath Voldemort's voluminous robes. The snake fell heavily to the floor and curled around his feet.

"I will leave Nagini here with you. Her purpose here will be twofold: if you find these materials insufficient at any point, you will inform Nagini. If you attempt to escape…"

He allowed the thought to linger for a few moments before softly murmuring, "Crucio."

"You will not be permitted your wand, and as such" a wave of his hand and parchment, a pot of ink and a quill appeared on the desk, "everything will be completed by hand. That should not prove to be too difficult as I imagine your Muggle upbringing has been of sufficient preparation. You will eat when you arrive at a viable conclusion, so I suggest you begin now."

With that final order Voldemort Disapparated, leaving Hermione to weep on the floor.

* * *

Silence.

A heartbeat.

Distant explosions.

Everything seemed so familiar…and yet lighter, somehow…

Harry did not dare to open his eyes. He could feel hands holding him in the air and hear muffled sobs every few moments, but he did not dare open his eyes.

The last thing he could remember was lying facedown in the Great Hall and hearing distant screams. There was light, green light…had he died? It really just felt like he was waking up from an awful nightmare, like the nightmares he had been forced to endure for so many years because of that stupid scar…

"Okay, we can put him down here, I think," said a voice Harry recognized as Neville's. Harry felt the hands holding him throw him unceremoniously on the ground, and he was suddenly grateful of his instincts to play dead. Neville's voice grew angry as Harry's body hit the floor, his neck cracking painfully and his jaw resting upright.

"You could bloody treat him with more respect than that, you bastards!" he shouted. There was a mad cackle and Harry heard the sound of a wand whipping a trail through the air. Neville yelled and Harry heard his body hit the ground.

"Mind your tongue, boy!" trilled Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry hadn't heard her sound this delighted since the night Sirius died. He fought to contain a flash of anger.

"Now bury him, quickly, now! You have lessons to get to! No—just the boy alone, I should think. Yaxley, Travers, take the lot back inside. We don't need a miniature revolt at Potter's funeral, the blood traitor should be enough to bury him by hand, he loves Muggles that much."

"I don't recall the Dark Lord giving you supreme reign, Bellatrix," replied a deep, slow voice.

Harry opened his right eye a fraction and saw a blurry Neville crouched on the ground in front of him, glaring defiantly at what must have been a trio of Death Eaters behind him. A deep cut on Neville's chest was bleeding profusely.

Harry made a quick decision, waiting for Neville to look back down at him. He could hear Bellatrix snapping back angrily at either Travers or Yaxley, one of which apparently did not agree with the pecking order. Harry recognized this moment as a quick chance for survival.

A few nerve-wracking seconds passed until Neville finally looked down mulishly at Harry's face. Neville's eyes widened and his mouth dropped into a perfect "O" when he saw Harry's lively green eyes staring firmly back up at him. Harry willed Neville with his eyes as strongly as he could to get the hint and play along.

'Don't react, Neville, you prat…'

"What's wrong with 'im?"

Harry heard the arguing behind him come to a stop and he quickly screwed his eyes shut. He could hear Neville's breathing rate increase and he began to panic internally, until—

"I need, I think I need the hospital wing. M-my cut…I'm bleeding!" Neville cried.

Bellatrix began to scream with laughter. "Ickle Longbottom's got an ouchie! Poor little baby! Shall we get you a nice, warm bed and some hot tea, too?" Travers and Yaxley joined in the laughter.

"Maybe he can share a room with his useless parents, it'll be a nice family reunion…"

Harry had rarely felt such hatred before, but Neville, to his credit, said nothing.

"That's good," Bellatrix whispered as the two men continued to snicker in the background. "Control that little temper of yours and maybe we won't have you join Potter down below."

"I doubt the lump will be able to drop off Potter without falling in himself, let alone escape. Let's just get back up to the castle before the Dark Lord wonders what's been taking us this long."

There was a murmur of agreement and Harry heard a loud crack. He kept his eyes shut until he heard Neville murmur, "Harry? Harry, they're all gone."

Tentatively opening his eyes, it did appear to Harry that each of the Death Eaters had left. He did not move for fear that they might change their mind and come back.

"I knew you'd come back!" Neville declared furiously, as if people returned from the dead every day. "I just knew it, you're the Chosen One, Harry, he can't beat you—"

"Be quiet, Neville," Harry hissed back. Neville's loud voice promptly died down. "Look, I need you to do something for me. You're meant to be burying me, right?" Neville nodded, looking supremely apologetic. "Okay, I need you to do that." He ignored Neville's squawking protests. "Shut up, Neville! Just listen! I need you to go to the fourth floor in that corridor, you know which one I mean, right, the one near the study area. Just take that way up to the Gryffindor Common Room, tell them you want to mourn me alone or something like that.  _Don't let them follow you_. There's a statue of an old wizard in a wig there. I left my Invisibility Cloak behind it. Grab it and bring it down here to me and we'll go from there."

Harry expected to have to repeat himself a few times, but to his surprise Neville simply nodded and said, "I've got it." Harry was reminded of how much they'd all grown up in such a short period of time, it seemed Neville most of all, and he felt a rush of affection for his friend.

A rush of affection dimmed slightly by Neville dropping him into the ground and covering his face with dirt.

* * *

Hermione must have flipped through forty books, each offering little information on horcruxes in general. Her stomach had begun to rumble uncomfortably, reminding her of the grievousness of her situation. There had been a select few mentions of the term in the oldest, dustiest volumes, but nothing beyond what she was sure Voldemort already knew. It seemed that however deeply entrenched part of the wizarding community seemed to be within the Dark Arts, they were still wholly unprepared to delve into the darkest parts of humanity.

There were four bookshelves in total, and she had not managed to clear the first bookshelf as of yet. There was no clock in the room, but Hermione was certain she had been sat there for at least two hours. she grimly remembered searching the library a year back for information on the same term, of course, without the threat of impending death. It had always been her first instinct to search for the answers in a book; perhaps that was why Voldemort instructed her ahead of his legions of followers to perform this task. And then she angrily reprimanded herself for vindicating Voldemort's thought process at all.

'There must be some information here about how to temporarily disable cursed barriers,' she thought, although she knew it would be unlikely without the use of her wand. 'Or how to incapacitate evil snakes…'

Nagini lay curled in a far corner of the room, surveying Hermione with its narrow eyes. She had not expressed her concerns to the snake that there may not be sufficient information here, as she did not expect the snake to understand English.

Coming to the last word of a chapter on painful effects of torture by forced human splinching, Hermione angrily shut the covers of the book and placed her head in her hands. Nagini hissed at the loud, unexpected sound and Hermione heard the telltale crack of Voldemort's approach. She quickly raised her head back up and reopened the book.

"Nagini tells me that you are going to sleep. Do you not wish to eat, girl?"

"I wasn't going to sleep. I was simply resting my head for a moment. I've searched through so many of these books and haven't found a single clue yet."

Voldemort looked vaguely irritated. "I suggest you try harder. I was able to uncover the horcrux creation ritual when I was much younger than you and with less access to materials."

Hermione exhaled sharply, but quickly quelled her anger at the look Voldemort gave her.

"Harry Potter has been buried," he stated flatly. Hermione closed her eyes. "I have allowed his classmates this kindness in recognition of the collective efforts to defend the school, which I did find admirable if not ill-advised. If you fail to put forth true effort here, you will not be shown the same regard. I will throw what is left of your body into the most remote sea I can find, and no one will be able to find you to mourn. I suggest you  _try harder_."

_Crack._

If Hermione could have spared any more tears, she would have collapsed at this. 'Harry,' she thought miserably, turning the page of  _Methodical Torture for the Prisoner Untamed_.

_Hermione!_

Hermione nearly squeaked, managing to muffle the sound with her hands. Nagini raised her head curiously, then curled back down and closed her eyes.

"Harry…is that you?" she whispered so quietly she could barely hear herself. Nagini seemed to be unable to hear Harry's voice.

_Yeah, it's me. Thank Merlin this works._

Hermione, overcome at discovering Harry was alive for the second time, fought to keep her voice low. "What do you mean?"

_I concentrated on you as hard as possible to see if I could contact you again._

"Where are you? How are you alive? Voldemort said you'd been buried, I don't understand—"

 _We don't have time for all that, Hermione,_  Harry interrupted.  _Just listen to me. I'm at Hogwarts right now, Neville got me the Cloak and he's gone back inside with everyone. Are you alone?_

"Voldemort's not here with me, if that's what you mean. Nagini's in the corner but I think she's asleep now, she's been watching me for ages. He has me researching ways to fix his horcruxes, Harry."

Harry was silent for a few minutes. Hermione said nothing, waiting for him to respond. When the silence stretched on for an unnerving time, she whispered, "Harry? Are you…are you still there?"

_Sorry, yeah, I'm here. I'm just thinking. You're still in the room, then?_

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione. She looked nervously in Nagini's direction, who had not stirred. "I'm in the Room of Requirement, Voldemort said so himself."

_No, he must be lying. The Room was destroyed with Crabbe's Fiendfyre._

Hermione could feel the faint glimmer of excitement. "No, Harry, I don't think he's lying! He had all of these books appear—"

_Er, Hermione, he's got the Elder Wand._

"I  _know_  that Harry, honestly…but he told me that this room would respond to his wishes, and all I have to do is tell his snake if the books don't have the correct information and they'll change. Nagini has a part of his soul, that must be why he left the snake here since he can't be fussed to wait around and watch me search these books."

_I thought the Room of Requirement changes before you enter, though…_

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione desperately. "I just don't think he's lying, he has no reason to lie since he thinks you're dead and the Order's gone."

_He's Voldemort!_

Hermione huffed. "Well, either way, there's no doorway that I can see here so you won't be able to get me out anyway."

_Right. Well, look, I think the part of his soul that was in me is gone now._

"Are…are you sure?" Hermione asked, blinking in confusion.

_Yeah, he shot me with the Killing Curse—_

"Harry!"

_—and I felt it hit me. I woke up after and, I dunno, I feel a lot lighter. Can't say why I'm still able to speak to you if the bit of him that was in me is gone, though. Hang on, Dumbledore did say something once. Something about magic leaving traces?_

Resolved to ignore the fact that Harry had indeed died and come back, Hermione instantly reverted into her tell-tale matter-of-fact tone. "Yes, I expect there are vestiges of Dark Magic within you, Harry, especially considering you housed part of his soul for seventeen years. It's all explained in  _Magical Theory_ , these types of connections can't be completely broken so easily, and, of course, he did use your blood to regenerate his body which constitutes a very strong magical bind…"

Harry allowed Hermione to ramble on for a few minutes. If he closed his eyes he was transported back to the Common Room, listening to Hermione lecture him and Ron on the finer points of their essay on fundamental laws of magic. Ron was staring at Hermione with a mixture of equal parts horror and fascination as she listed off the basic tenets of magical theory at a rapid pace. Then Harry remembered Ron was dead and the illusion vanished.

_Hermione, focus. We need to figure out a way to take him down._

Hermione paused. "You're right, sorry. I feel like I'm in the Restricted Section a bit, here. Alright, let's start off with what we know. Voldemort hasn't created any new horcruxes because he threatened to make, um, a new one if I was unsuccessful here."

If Harry sensed anything wrong, he did not speak up.

"So that means the snake is his last horcrux. If we can somehow get the Sword of Gryffindor, we can kill the snake and then take him down. That just leaves the Elder Wand, really."

_Yeah, that's loads easier._

"Do try and stay positive, Harry. What do we know about the Elder Wand?" Hermione racked her brain, trying desperately to recall the story she'd read in  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

_It's the most powerful wand, and Voldemort's got it._

"Yes, yes, but what else? It must have some sort of weakness, everything has a point of weakness. I remember reading that the Elder Wand is made of the elder tree, it's quite a tricky sort of wood—"

 _When did you get time to go and read about the Hallows?_ asked Harry incredulously.

"Oh, not now!" snapped Hermione. "Let's see… _'So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death!'_ So the wand is the most powerful, must always win duels for its owners…"

Hermione waited patiently for Harry to mock her, and when he stayed silent she continued on eagerly.

"I wonder why it didn't come back to you, I mean, I'm assuming even if he had been prepared for you to seize the wand, it should have responded to you anyway."

_We were wrong about that Hermione. He's got the wand because he's the owner._

"But that's not possible," Hermione replied, furrowing her brow. "We went over the chain of command, it should be yours."

_Well, it's not. Voldemort gave me a nice lesson before he did me in. It didn't matter that I disarmed Draco. The wand only responds to power, that's probably why it's got such a bloody history. Gregorovitch never lost possession of the wand, not until Voldemort killed him off at least. Grindelwald didn't do his job properly._

"You might be right," Hermione said slowly. "In the story, Antioch had the wand stolen from him while he was sleeping, but the wizard slit his throat. Although, Godelot was never murdered, per se, he was locked in his cellar by his son who took the wand…but then, I suppose if he died from that, then that is a sort of demonstration of power, isn't it?"

_I s'pose._

"You could duel him for it."

_Are you crazy? The wand's invented to win duels!_

"I think that might be part of the lore and not the actual history, Harry. Emeric the Evil was slaughtered in a duel by Egbert the Egregious and he gained possession of the wand. It must be possible, otherwise it wouldn't be so easy for the wand to pass around."

_Right, unless Emeric found a loophole or something, I dunno, tricked Ulbert somehow…_

"It was Egbert that defeated Emeric, Harry, didn't you listen to what I said? And anyways, there wasn't any foul play recorded, apart from the actual duel itself, really. There aren't any loopholes, it's always been a trail of murder and vicious duels, hasn't it? Even Antioch himself, although it wasn't much of a duel as he was taken unawares…"

Hermione trailed off, an idea burgeoning quickly.

"I think I might have an idea, Harry."

_Okay, good, because I've got nothing._

"You said you have the Cloak, right?"

_Yeah, I'm under it now. So what?_

" _'Finally, Death turned to the third brother. A humble man, he asked for something that allowed him to go from that place without being followed by death. And so it was that death reluctantly handed over his own cloak of invisibility.'_ "

_…Hermione?_

"Don't you see, Harry? He can't find you under the Cloak of Invisibility!"

 _Hermione, I'm aware,_  Harry said despairingly, having clearly hoped that Hermione had figured out something different.  _I'm not going to just hide from him and hope he does one eventually._

"I know that!" replied Hermione excitedly. She fought to keep her voice down with quick glances at the still unconscious snake. "The wand is designed to win duels for its owner, particularly for those with prodigious skill and power. The whole point of gaining ownership of the wand is to prove that you can overpower your opponent. You're a descendent of Ignotus Peverell, Harry, the first of the brothers to overpower Death with the Cloak you're wearing right now!"

_That still doesn't help me beat him, Hermione._

"Yes, this is the difficult part," Hermione continued, speaking rapidly to herself as much as to Harry. "If you can catch Voldemort off-guard, I think you can take the wand off his possession by force."

_We tried surprising him already. It didn't work out so well that time._

"Maybe…maybe that's how it was meant to happen, Harry. I mean, you destroyed the bit of his soul that was inside of you."

_And here I thought you weren't a fan of Trelawney and her prophecies._

Hermione's lips twitched despite herself.

_Right, okay…so Voldemort definitely won't be able to see me under the Cloak. You're saying we need to create some kind of diversion, get his attention elsewhere. Then I can get the wand off of him and kill him._

Hermione stayed silent. Hearing Harry run the plan out point by point made her realize just how dangerous it really was. And this time, there would be no piece of soul for Harry to fall back on should Voldemort understand what was happening and retaliate.

"I think maybe you should let someone else actually kill him, Harry, someone from the Order, and you can stay hidden under the Cloak," she said, biting her lip nervously.

_No. There's no way I'm letting someone else get in that sort of danger for me again—_

"Harry—"

_No, Hermione. Everyone's been fighting this whole time to protect me, and so many of them died doing just that. Besides, it's my destiny to kill him. I know I've been writing off that whole Chosen One bit this whole time, but I've been thinking…if the prophecy is real, then 'either must die at the hand of the other', right? He's already gone and killed me, so I think it's my turn to return the favor._

" _Harry—_ " repeated Hermione, but he refused to let her speak.

_Dumbledore always said that the part of the prophecy that says I'll have power the Dark Lord knows not was love, and I always used to think there must be something more. Maybe this is it. Voldemort never truly figured out how to accept Death. The Cloak's been passed down my family line because Ignotus was able to equal Death and accept passing on, something his other brothers and Voldemort were never able to do._

"I think love plays a part in that, too," Hermione said quietly. "Ignotus passed on the Cloak to his son because he loved him."

Harry fell silent.

"I suppose we have a plan, then," Hermione said after a few moments. She sensed a poignant change between in the air between them, although she couldn't pinpoint why, exactly.

_We still need to figure out some kind of diversion, and get him to call back Nagini so that I can kill it first._

"I thought that it was clear I was going to kill Nagini, Harry."

_You? How?_

"There's not enough time to wait for him to call the snake back before you kill him. It's too much of a risk that he'll recognize the danger and Disapparate. I need you to do something for me."

_What?_

"Voldemort said the Room responds to his wishes. You still have that connection, Harry. I need you to will the Sword of Gryffindor to me and I'll cut its head off."

_I don't know if I can, Hermione._

"Just try, Harry. I'm not sure if there's much else we can hope for."

* * *

Harry breathed heavily, rubbing his eyes furiously outside the wreckage that used to be the Room of Requirement's entrance. He knew he could not access the Room, but just knowing he was somewhat near Hermione was providing him some measure of strength.

'Will the Sword in. Concentrate,' he told himself, knowing full well that concentration was never his strong suit. He knew that if he failed to do so, however, the entire plan would be useless.

Harry thought hard on the circumstances that had led him to the Sword of Gryffindor in the past. He had pulled it out of the Sorting Hat in his second year and out of the lake just months ago, but he had neither Fawkes nor the mysterious owner of the doe patronus to help him this time. He searched his mind, trying his hardest to recall any sort of advice Dumbledore had ever given him regarding the Sword. He knew it responded to true courage, a condition which he supposed would be satisfied should Hermione attempt to kill the snake. But there was no way in hell he was going to leave her life up to chance.

"Hermione," he called out hesitantly. "Do you see the Sword? Or the Sorting Hat?"

_…No. Not yet. Keep trying._

Harry swore. The connection must be too weak for him to will in such a powerful object.

_Harry…I have an idea. Try to will me in a wand, please._

It appeared as though Hermione had also guessed that the connection between himself and Voldemort may be too tenuous to immediately bring about such powerful objects. Harry cleared his mind and walked backwards and forwards three times across the remnants of the blank stretch of wall, chanting to himself  _I need a powerful wand._

He heard Hermione's intake of breath and for a second thought that perhaps he had managed to will her the Elder Wand. "Did it work?'

_Yes, Harry, I have a wand!_

Harry couldn't help pumping his fist in the air triumphantly. "So, what now?"

_Just trust me, Harry. Follow the plan and I'll take care of the snake._

And so he did. Harry snuck carefully down from the seventh floor to just outside the entrance to the Great Hall. His mind was bizarrely blank as he made his way throughout the school despite this being the culmination of nearly eighteen years of misery and preparation. He supposed that he'd already gone through every emotion he could when he'd confronted Voldemort hours and hours ago. All he felt now was pure determination coursing through every nerve in his body, carrying him forward step by step toward the goal.

_Tell me where you are, Harry._

"I'm waiting outside the Great Hall for someone to enter so I can slip in," he replied in a low voice. And not a minute later, a tall figure that he recognized as the werewolf Greyback wrenched open the doors. Harry noticed with revulsion that Greyback had a satisfied grin on his hairy face, and faint bloody smudges on the corners of his mouth. Vowing to kill Greyback the soonest chance he could, Harry slipped in behind him and felt immense relief—for the first time—at successfully finding Voldemort.

Each of the house tables were barely half-filled with students as the various Muggleborn families had been removed from the school. The Slytherin table seemed to be the only house largely unaffected by the changes, a fact which did not go unnoticed by its scores of smirking pupils. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students alike ate in silence, not daring to look anywhere but their plates which were filled with the barest of foods, quite a stark contrast from the fantastic feasts provided by Dumbledore in years past.

Few of the original teachers at Hogwarts remained at the High Table. Snape was missing, oddly, although Harry supposed he must be off attending to one of Voldemort's schemes elsewhere in the castle. McGonagall sat stoically in her usual seat, refusing to touch the food on her plate or engage with any of the Death Eaters sat next to her.

In the centre, in the place of honour, in Dumbledore's seat, sat Voldemort.

Thick, hot coils of fury burned in Harry's body, and his mind became exceptionally clear. Voldemort sat as though a king, his chair transfigured to resemble a high, ebony black throne with the skull of the Gaunt coat of arm carved onto the rails. He surveyed the student body idly, neither partaking in the grim laughter and conversations between his elected staff, nor choosing to fill his empty plate with the meagre food on the table.

Harry could see the Elder Wand gripped tightly in Voldemort's hand. It would be far too risky to chance disarming him at this point, even if he was not expecting an attack. Harry changed tactics, cursing himself for having to draw in another person.

He walked cautiously over to the Gryffindor table, taking great care not to expose his ankles or bump into any of the chairs. He finally located Neville, bent as close as he could to the boy's right ear, and whispered, "Don't react."

Apart from the slightest of jumps, Neville obeyed Harry's command. "It's Harry. I don't have a lot of time to explain, but you're the only one who knows I'm alive so I need you to help me, Neville. I need you to create a distraction, something big enough that Voldemort will get up to see."

He retreated back a step, watching to see if Neville understood him. Slowly, Neville rose to his feet and the laughter and chatter at the High Table died away.

Heart pounding, Harry backed out of Neville's path. He turned to watch Voldemort, who in turn was eyeing Neville's actions with mild interest. Harry readied Draco's wand, knowing Hermione must have been able to hear his instructions to Neville.

"Longbottom, is it?" asked Voldemort softly. Every head in the Great Hall was turned to face Neville, who stood resolutely at the centre-base of the High Table.

"That's right," Neville replied feverishly. Harry had the odd sense that had he not requested Neville to create a diversion, this confrontation would have happened anyway.

"And do you have something you'd like to share?" inquired Voldemort in a silky voice. It was posed as a mere question, and Harry understood the threat behind it. So, too, did the rest of the students who looked absolutely petrified.

"Yeah, yeah I have something I wanna say. Not to you, though. To that horrible bitch on your left."

Bellatrix Lestrange's once-beautiful face had never looked so ugly. She jumped to her feet, eyes frenzied, lips curled in a vicious snarl, a vein threatening to pop on her forehead. "What did you call me, you filthy, dirty, idiot blood traitor! You  _dare—_ "

"Silence, Bella," said Voldemort quietly, and Bellatrix promptly obeyed, although her face relinquished none of its indignant rage. "Let us hear what the boy has to say."

Neville hardly seemed to hear Voldemort's words, so intense was his focus on Bellatrix. His expression of loathing mirrored hers perfectly. He did not say a word, and Bellatrix looked over to Voldemort with a pleading expression in her eyes. Voldemort remained seated and nodded. Instantaneously, Bellatrix's rage transformed to maniacal delight. She skipped down from the High Table to face Neville on level ground, drew her wand out, and assumed a duel position. Neville did the same.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall. Voldemort turned his head towards her and lifted his wand a fraction. McGonagall eyed the movement, and continued in a trembling voice, "If this is to be the case, let me take his place, he's just a boy!"

McGonagall's voice shook Harry out of his reverie. He sprinted up to just behind Neville, whose wand had not lowered the entire time, still glaring fiercely at a grinning Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I'll get her first in three," whispered Harry into Neville's ear.

"Three."

"Step back, Longbottom. I am your Head of House!"

"Two"

Neville tightened the grip on his wand, a cold fury pulsing throughout his veins.

"One."

" _Petrificus totalus!_ " Harry roared, aiming Draco's wand at Bellatrix's chest. Bellatrix's immobile body began to totter backwards, a nasty smirk plastered on her face.

" _Confringo!_ " screamed Neville without missing a beat, and the Hall exploded into chaos.

Students ran screaming to the edges of the hall to avoid the explosion which was so massive and intense in its wrath that a few of the Death Eaters nearest Voldemort caught fire. Professor McGonagall conjured a shield in time to protect herself while Voldemort Apparated a safe distance further away behind the staff table, looking positively murderous.

"I know that voice!" he exclaimed, his eyes darting madly around the Hall for a trace of Harry. " _Homenum revelio!_   _HOMENUM REVELIO!_ " Neville's face, set with pure unrelenting fury only moments ago, possessed the most blissful smile Harry had ever seen. Neville raised his gaze toward the ceiling and dropped his wand arm carelessly to his side.

"Hermione, kill it now!" yelled Harry as he jumped up the steps to the staff table. "Neville, move!"

Voldemort turned toward Harry's voice, who ducked under the table and quickly switched to Voldemort's other side, narrowly avoiding a Killing Curse. McGonagall and Flitwick were now duelling two Death Eaters apiece while a group of ex-D.A. students fired off spell after spell at Greyback.

Clearly enraged at being unable to correctly source Harry's voice, Voldemort twisted toward Neville. Harry followed his line of sight but, before he could utter a warning, Voldemort screamed, " _Avada kedavra!_ "

Neville crumpled to the floor. Harry could not breathe.

Milliseconds, and then:

_Fende ignis!_

Harry's turned to stare at Voldemort, who had staggered forward suddenly, a mingled look of shock and abject agony in his widened eyes. His hands clawed uselessly at the air in front of him, and Harry knew, deep down, that Hermione had managed to kill the snake, the final horcrux, which meant Voldemort was now mortal, and Harry watched as his grip slackened ever so slightly on the Elder Wand with the pain of losing his last and final tie to immortality—

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

The Elder Wand soared in a graceful arc and landed neatly in Harry's outstretched hand. Voldemort remained half-crouched, mouth agape, seemingly unable still to comprehend the loss of Bellatrix, Nagini, now the Wand and he knew it was Harry Potter, but how,  _how…_

And Harry, with the overflowing confidence of someone who knew he could not be defeated now, and with the death of courageous Neville still fresh in his mind, tore the Cloak off of himself. He did not register the hundreds of gasps from every end of the Great Hall whose occupants now stood in stunned silence.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ "

A ringing silence, the soft thud of a lifeless body collapsing to the floor, and Harry knew nothing but liberation.

* * *

In the days passing, The Boy Who Lived steadily transformed into The Boy Who Conquered.  _The Daily Prophet_ , keen to regain viewership after a disaster in revenue over the previous year, had set about proclaiming Harry as the true saviour of the wizarding world. Harry knew better, of course, but every time he attempted to correct these declarations in the fact that he had succeeded with the help of Hermione and Ron and Neville, among scores of others, the words burned painfully at the back of his throat.

He instead resigned himself to the outskirts of a small village in southern England in which the trio had searched for horcruxes once upon a time, ignoring all requests for interviews, determined to honour the brave sacrifices of his friends in penitent solitude.

This particular morning, Harry woke with a start after yet another dream of running madly throughout the chaos of Hogwarts. This time, the dream was interspersed with Hermione's voice crying his name out desperately, begging him to remember her and to find her.

He sat up, rubbed at his eyes fiercely, then went to prepare his breakfast.

He mused silently on this morning's dream as his fried eggs crackled in the pan. It had seemed so much more palpable than its predecessors, if only different in the addition of Hermione's pleas. Vaguely, he remembered a St. Mungo's healer kindly explaining to him after the battle that he was likely to experience flashbacks for the rest of his life. A small price to pay for saving the rest of the world. Harry hadn't responded, too focused on escaping the suffocating confines of the bright white hospital and the countless eyes staring at him, always staring.

Harry ate his breakfast slowly as he perused  _The Daily Prophet_  for news of any more discoveries of bodies. Ignoring the constant presence of his miniature self in photographs adorning the newspaper's plentiful ruminations on his role in the battle was fairly easy. Every identified body, on the other hand, triggered a painful pang in Harry's heart as he recognized one more person that could have lived had he fulfilled his duty sooner. Hermione's voice continued to echo in his mind as he skimmed the entire newspaper for names.

The first few days after Voldemort's death had been a dizzying juggle between complete jubilation and the depths of despair. Yes, Voldemort was gone, as were his multitudes of followers. But so was Neville, Ron, countless other students Harry could not bring himself to list and, perhaps most importantly of all, Hermione. Despite yelling her name over and over with increasing desperation, the final spell was the last Harry had heard from her. He evaded throngs of students and reporters to pace tirelessly in front of the Room of Requirement, attempting every combination of words in the English language that he could to enter the room. It was only until McGonagall cautiously translated Hermione's incantation for him— _fiendfyre_ —did Harry turn away from the seventh floor with parting images of a destroyed diadem in a ruined Room.

It seemed as though that day's edition had produced no new names. On these rare days where no names were listed, Harry wasn't quite sure what to feel. Should he be happy? Or should he be sad that another dead body remained hidden, stretching the period of anxious despair from wondering if a missing loved one is alive. Most days, he just felt empty.

Harry laid the newspaper on the table and pushed his breakfast away. As usual, three quarters of it remained uneaten. He pictured Molly Weasley berating him for looking so malnourished and almost threatened a smile, and then recalled Ron at the Gryffindor table, eagerly shoveling food down his throat while Hermione eyed him crossly. "Do you ever stop eating?"

His heart lurched and Hermione's voice flitted through his mind again.  _Why_  was her presence so potent for him today? He rested his head on his hands and attempted to control his breathing and blank his mind when he heard rustling outside his door. In an instant, he was on his feet with wand at the ready.

While he had been unable to hide his location completely from prying eyes, Harry hadn't had a visit since moving there owing to his powerful protective charms. Months of applying concealment charms and the like while hunting for Horcruxes had provided him with an arsenal to repel nearly everything besides his grief.

The lock on the door twisted slowly and opened with a soft  _click_. He watched, silently, as a mane of untamed bushy brown hair preceded a face slightly more weathered than he remembered, but with a familiar set of eyes that, despite hinting at horrors of a kind unique to the pair of them alone, remained as warm and sharp as ever.

His wand clattered to the floor, and Harry felt quite that he was back in his first year of Hogwarts, using a wand for the first time, flying a broom for the first time, feeling, laughing, learning, gazing into the Mirror of Erised, and seeing what truly was his heart's desire.

"Harry."

The Boy Who Lived stepped forward.

FIN


End file.
